Bye Bye Bass
by mellowship
Summary: What if the ghost of Bart Bass saves Chuck from death instead of Blair and Jack? Chuck sees how those he cared about would be affected if he had succeeded in his suicide attempt. Starts during 2.14. Loosely based off of the film “It’s A Wonderful Life".
1. Free Fall

**Summary: **What if the ghost of Bart Bass saves Chuck from committing suicide instead of Blair and Jack? Chuck sees how those he cared about would be affected if he had succeeded in his suicide attempt. Starts during 2.14. Loosely based off of the film "It's A Wonderful Life"

**Disclaimer: **I don't own anything, etc.

**Free-Fall**

The Bass men were not known as fools, as pariahs, as people who should be pitied; no, they never backed down from their challenges – not until tonight, at least.

_Chuck Bass is throwing in the towel_, thought the seventeen-year-old billionaire in despair, as he teetered upon the ledge of a rooftop above the only people who ever cared about him. Taking another desperate swig of his near-empty bottle of scotch, Chuck closed his eyes and stumbled backwards a bit. The familiar warmth that came with inebriation didn't comfort Chuck this evening. Instead, the cold and punishing wind chilled the youngest Bass to the very bone.

Looking down at the traffic below, Chuck laughed. The cars were tiny toy cars, the drivers hurried little ants scurrying around the city, too busy to notice the human being about to land on one of their hundred-thousand dollar cars. "Oh how the mighty Bass has fallen!" Chuck taunted himself bitterly before finishing off the scotch. "You're pathetic. You're so insignificant that not a single person would even care if you were gone!" He wound his arm back and whipped the empty bottle into the New York night. Chuck's voice lowered dramatically, his voice taking on a sudden and dangerous tone of finality. "Fuck it."

Chuck turned to face the countless skyscrapers protruding into the night sky. Taking a deep breath, he leaned forward and squeezed his eyes shut, suddenly terrified of the rush of air that was about to befall him. _Christ, maybe this was a mistake_, he thought – a thought that came a second too late as Chuck Bass began plummeting downwards, falling towards the pavement like an asteroid breaching Earth's atmosphere.

All of a sudden, the sound of rushing air stopped. The world was black and quiet as death. All that Chuck could hear was his own heart beating – fast, and then slow, and then not at all. _So this is what it's like to die. Amazing it didn't hurt more._

"Actually Charles, if you had died during this… error in judgment, you wouldn't have time to have that little thought of yours because you'd have died upon impact." A deep, soothing voice penetrated the silence. Chuck struggled to open his eyes, blinking away spots of darkness until he was looking up at Bart Bass, in the flesh. He was speechless.

Bart bent down to offer Chuck a hand. "Get up, Charles. I think we have a lot to discuss."

Chuck realized he was sprawled on his back upon the very same rooftop off of which he could have sworn he jumped. Hesitantly, he reached up and grabbed his father's hand; Bart's touch was freezing. Standing up with shaky legs, Chuck immediately dropped his hand from Bart's and stepped backwards. "F-father… What are you doing here?" he asked nervously. Bart looked at him with a raised eyebrow. "Well?" Chuck crossed his arms impatiently before chuckling. "Oh, I get it now. This is Hell - no booze, no Blair, and Bart Bass. Well I suppose the man upstairs has a sense of humor, huh?"

Bart shook his head. "Really, Charles? You're laughing at a time like this? You've just tried to kill yourself, son. That's hardly a reason for joviality."

The smile faded from Chuck's face. "What do you mean _tried_? I jumped off a building, father. Trust me, I was there. Besides, there's no other explanation for your sudden reappearance besides my being in Hell."

"I'm well aware of your behavior as of late, Charles. I've been watching," Bart replied sternly.

Chuck furrowed his eyebrows. "How have you been watching? You're -"

Bart cut him off. "Dead? Yes. The problem, you see, is that I have not yet passed over to the other side. As you know, I wasn't exactly the most upstanding human being. I have done a lot of terrible things and for me to cross over, I need to help change somebody's life for the better. That somebody is _you,_ Charles. Understand that I've been watching you since my death, son. I have seen everything you have done since the car accident, and I have also heard everything you've said or thought. You have a lot of issues, just like I did – and that is not a good thing."

Chuck took a deep breath and ran his trembling hands through his hair. He began pacing back and forth slowly. "Let me get this straight. I'm not dead – just fucked up, then. And you… you're my father's ghost?"

The elder Bass chuckled. "You make it all sound so ridiculous. I suppose it is. But yes, that's correct. And you, son, have a lot to learn about yourself."

"And how do you suggest I do that, father?" Chuck snapped harshly before letting out a sigh. "I apologize. This is too much to process. People don't just jump off of buildings only to end up alive and talking to ghosts. It's ludicrous."

Bart shrugged. "Ludicrous as it is, the situation is still a reality, and we must deal accordingly. Earlier I heard you say that no one would care if you died. Did I hear incorrectly, Charles?"

Chuck shook his head. "No, father. I said it and I meant it. I still do."

"That's what I thought. How about we investigate your supposition, hm?" Bart proposed with a smirk.

"Fine, and you'll see that it is a waste of time because I'll have been right all along," Chuck answered. He rubbed his bloodshot eyes just to make sure he wasn't going crazy. Nope, Bart was still there, standing in front of Chuck with crossed arms and an amused expression.

"You most certainly have the Bass stubbornness." He remarked dryly. "Now, close your eyes and don't open them until I say."

**A/N: **I know this is a very cliche story topic but I thought I could do a different spin on it. Let me know if I should continue or not, because I don't want to write if no one is going to read it =)


	2. Scarlet on White

**Summary: **What if the ghost of Bart Bass saves Chuck from committing suicide instead of Blair and Jack? Chuck sees how those he cared about would be affected if he had succeeded in his suicide attempt. Starts during 2.14. Loosely based off of the film "It's A Wonderful Life"

**Disclaimer: **I don't own anything, etc.

**Scarlet on White**

"_You most certainly have the Bass stubbornness." He remarked dryly. "Now, close your eyes and don't open them until I say."_

Chuck closed his eyes and felt the ice-cold arm of Bart Bass wrap around his shoulders. The wind fell still and Chuck felt a crushing pressure on his chest, as if he were having an asthma attack. Seconds later, the pressure was gone and, with eyes squeezed shut, Chuck collapsed to his knees, taking in desperate gulps of wintry air.

"Easy, son," Bart lifted Chuck to his feet. "There is no need for air in our realm. You're as much a ghost as I am right now."

Chuck stopped struggling to breathe and became unnaturally still upon noticing his sudden absence of heartbeat. Chuck held his head in his hands as said wearily, "My heart. It stopped. I thought you said I was alive, father."

"You are, Charles, but you must temporarily become as I've become in order to travel in the ghost world. Here, you need neither your lungs nor your heart," Bart replied, before adding with a fleeting smirk, "Not that I had much of a heart to begin with. Now, open your eyes and come with me."

Opening his eyes slowly, Chuck saw that they were no longer on the rooftop. They were still in the hotel, but now they were in the the main room of the party which Chuck had previously left. For some reason, this change of location didn't even surprise him (_Once you've met your father's ghost, you've done it all,_ Chuck noted). The room looked exactly has he remembered; half-empty glasses of champagne were scattered everywhere and appetizer trays lay full of uneaten food on ornately decorated tables. The only difference was that this room was completely bereft of human presence. Bart hardly gave Chuck time to observe the room before ushering the young Bass towards the door. "Follow me," Bart ordered.

"Where are we going?" Chuck asked in frustration. "I don't have time for this nonsense. If I'm alive, let me be so I can get on with my life."

No reply from the elder Bass.

"Really, father, this isn't necessary. I know how this is going to end. You're going to try to guilt trip me until I reach some sort of stereotypical epiphany. I've seen 'A Christmas Carol', you know!" Chuck growled in annoyance.

Bart stopped suddenly in his tracks and turned around to face Chuck. "Charles, stop it. You aren't God. You aren't omniscient. Truthfully, you aren't anything in the real scope of things," Bart snapped with a scowl before softening his tone. "You are, however, something to the people you pushed away, and I'll show you that if you would cooperate a little better. Just keep quiet and follow me."

Chuck jammed his hands in his pockets, narrowing his eyes defiantly. He looked around and noticed how empty the hotel halls were, how silent his world seemed. That was until the father and son walked through the building's glass doors. Ambulance and police sirens wailed in the night, flashing brightly as they made their way through the New York traffic. Chuck looked around in confusion until Bart nudged his shoulder gently and nodded his head at a crowd of people surrounding the pavement.

"What is all this?" Chuck asked Bart quizzically.

Bart shrugged. "Go see for yourself, Charles."

As he made his way toward the crowd, Chuck could hear crying. He immediately spotted flaxen waves he knew belonged to Jenny Humphrey, who was standing next to Eric van der Woodsen. Quickening his pace, he walked up to Eric. "Why'd the party move, little brother?" he inquired, standing on his toes trying to see what was happening. Eric said nothing and stood stoically as heart-wrenching wails continued to pierce the night. Chuck punched Eric on the arm, only to see that his fist went right through the young boy's heavy tweed jacket. "Come on, man! What the hell is going on?" Chuck didn't like being ignored, yet Eric remained quiet.

"He can't hear you."

Chuck turned around at the sound of his father's voice. "What? Why?"

Bart crossed his arms. "You're in the ghost realm, son. The living can't hear you. They don't even know you're here."

Chuck rolled his eyes. "How wonderful. Let me guess, I can walk through walls, too?"

"Actually, you can walk through anything," Bart said with a flicker of a smile.

"Anything?" Chuck asked in disbelief. It was getting harder and harder to be skeptical in this strange new world.

"Yes, Charles. Try it. It's rather entertaining, I must admit," Bart smirked

Chuck turned and stepped hesitantly towards Eric. The elder Bass nodded at Chuck encouragingly as his son waved a hand through Eric's back. It was as if Eric wasn't even there; all Chuck could feel was air. Uneasily, he closed his eyes and walked right through Eric. Chuck opened his eyes and saw that he had successfully walked through his brother without conflict – _Who else could say that? _He thought with amusement – and then made his way through the rest of the crowd. He could still hear those soul-crushing sobs; they were becoming mixed with the sounds of radio dispatchers and emergency medical technicians and police officers. Breaking through the crowd at last, Chuck saw a tiny brunette being dragged away from a crumpled heap on the ground.

Chuck neared the pile on the ground and found himself staring at his own destroyed body, dead on the pavement. Thick, scarlet-colored blood covered the ground and intermingled with freshly-fallen snowflakes. Frozen to the spot, Chuck's eyes widened in horror as he observed himself; he was unable to spot where one injury ended another began. Slowly, Chuck began to back away, mouth agape as EMTs took over the surrounding area. In the distance he still heard those wails, and immediately he realized to whom they belonged.

_Blair_**.**

Chuck weaved through the crowd quickly, his eyes scanning the group for Blair. His eyes were inexplicably drawn downward and suddenly, he spotted Serena, whose golden hair stood out against the darkness; he followed the beacon of light like the North Star. Serena was sitting on the cold ground, eyes glistening with tears and arms wrapped around a trembling Blair. _God, those cries_. Chuck crouched down and moved his hand to tip Blair's chin upwards. As predicted, his hand went right through her. Chuck dropped his hand, clenching his jaw in frustration.

"Oh God, Serena!" Blair sobbed. "How am I going to do this without him? I-I need him so badly, S!" She cried even harder.

Serena tightened her embrace. "It'll be okay, B," Serena choked generically, her own grief preventing her from properly comforting her best friend.

"No it won't!" Blair screamed, heavy sobs wracking her body. "Nothing will ever be okay again!"

A tear threatened to betray Chuck upon seeing Blair's distress but he forced it back. "Waldorf!" he yelled, snapping his fingers in front of her. "I'm not dead! See? I'm right in front of you!" His voice fell to a whisper. "You have nothing to cry about, Blair – please don't cry. Please," he begged.

Suddenly, a strange male voice entered the conversation. Chuck lifted his eyes to see his uncle standing above Blair and Serena. Jack's expression was sympathetic as he too crouched down. "Blair," he said with a stony voice. "I know tonight has been rough for you. I don't pretend to hide my sadness either, but here is not the place to grieve. Come, both of you. There's a limo waiting to take you girls home."

"No! I can't leave him!" Blair wept, falling into Serena's lap again. Serena instinctively began stroking the brunette's head.

"As you see, Ms. Waldorf, the paramedics are leaving. There's nothing you can do at this point," Jack replied with an even tone. "I need to follow the ambulance, and you need to go home and grieve in private. I'm sure Serena wasn't planning on leaving your side this evening, right, Serena?"

The blonde quickly cleared her throat. "Of course not, B. We need to be there for each other right now."

"No! I'm going with them!" Blair protested stubbornly. "He can't be alone and I won't abandon him!"

Jack's expression grew soft as he gently placed a hand on the small of Blair's back. "Listen to me, Blair. Chuck is gone. I assure you he did not survive the fall. It's physically impossible, sweetheart. The paramedics are taking him to the hospital as a precautionary measure, but by all means and purposes, he _is_ dead. And with all due respect, Ms. Waldorf, Chuck abandoned you, not the other way around."

Chuck was furious. How could Jack put the idea into Blair's head that somehow Chuck was to blame for her own sorrow? She was never Chuck's to abandon! Feeling particularly vengeful, Chuck leaned in so that he was inches away from Blair's face before whispering through gritted teeth, "Don't you dare think I left you behind. I never owed you anything, least of all my life. _You_ fell in love with me, not the other way around. Whose fault is that? Huh? You couldn't wait to be Mrs. Bass. Well guess what? _That's too bad_." He knew she couldn't hear him, but Chuck felt good as he released his anger.

Blair looked up and met Chuck's gaze abruptly and suddenly, Chuck's stomach dropped. _Uh-oh. _Serena touched Blair's arm in alarm. "What is it, B?"

"I - I don't know. I just thought I felt something, that's all," Blair said sadly. Chuck sighed, relieved his tirade went unheard. He felt a twinge of guilt for what he had said, but Chuck couldn't find the energy to care. Instead, he took the opportunity to study Blair. Her deep chocolate curls were loose and wet from the snowflakes melting on her hair, and while her skin was as porcelain as ever, though the tip of her nose was rosy red from the cold and the crying. In this instance, Chuck thought she looked nearly perfect, like an angel atop a Christmas tree. The only thing that was off about Blair was her eyes. They were lonely, dark, sad. _Like mine_, he thought.

As much as it pained Chuck to see Blair as upset as she was, he couldn't help but to feel relief wash over him knowing that Jack was there to make sure she didn't do anything stupid in his absence. She was certainly in no state to be left to her own devices tonight. Serena and Jack helped a grief-stricken Blair to her feet. Afraid she might collapse, Blair gripped Serena's hand tightly while Jack put his arm around her, steadying the brunette. After helping the two girls into an idling limo, Jack turned on his heels and disappeared into a dissipating crowd.

Bart appeared beside Chuck and looked at his son sympathetically. "See that, son? People care. Ms. Waldorf certainly does."

Chuck pushed down a lump in his throat. He still wanted to cry but that wasn't about to happen, especially not in front of Bart Bass. He rolled his eyes. "She'll get over me, father. She always does. I'm sure Prince Nathaniel will sweep her off of her feet in two weeks time."

"Charles, you should give people a little more credit," Bart replied, exasperated. "Did you or did you not see the way she cried over you? You may not have a heartbeat but you certainly still have your vision."

"Well obviously I saw her, father. The thing is, I don't care. She's overly-emotional as it is," Chuck said hoarsely with a smirk."This whole little experiment of yours has taught me nothing except that I should have stayed in Thailand and offed myself there. No one would have known and I wouldn't have been exposed to this idiotic vacation in purgatory."

Bart sighed. This was definitely not a vacation.

**A/N **Thank you so much for the reviews, everyone! I'm super happy you guys are liking it so far =D


	3. Grudges

**Summary: **What if the ghost of Bart Bass saves Chuck from committing suicide instead of Blair and Jack? Chuck sees how those he cared about would be affected if he had succeeded in his suicide attempt. Starts during 2.14. Loosely based off of the film "It's A Wonderful Life"

**Disclaimer: **I don't own anything, etc.

**Grudges**

_Bart sighed. This was definitely not a vacation._

Chuck threw his hands up in frustration before taking a seat on the curb. "Honestly, though, father - why did you have to go and ruin my plans? The world would be better off."

Sitting next to his son, Bart responded calmly, "We both know you didn't mean to jump, Charles."

"Don't tell me what I did and didn't mean to do. You have no right to interfere in my life as it is. You never helped me when you are alive, so why would you want to help me now?" Chuck replied spitefully, his eyes focused on the black pavement below.

Bart crossed his arms and rested them on his knees. "I never said I was father of the year and I don't expect you to think of me as such," Bart answered honestly, "but you have to understand, as CEO of Bass Industries, I didn't have time to be a father and a president at the same time. I shouldn't have taken my frustrations at work out on you; I know that was wrong. However, what's done is done. I apologize, but that is all I can do now."

"You didn't have time to be a father? That's your excuse for being a flat-out dick to me?" Chuck laughed bitterly. "You know what _I _think? I think you've hated me since my mother died. You never stopped blaming me for her death, have you?"

Bart stood up angrily. "Shut up, Charles; just shut up. You know nothing about your mother; she was the only thing I cared about and the only thing in my life that made it worth living. Don't you dare bring her into this conversation," he whispered dangerously.

"I knew it!" Chuck jumped to his feet and pointed accusingly at Bart. "You could give a fuck if I died!" He stepped closer to his father, jabbing Bart in the chest with his pointed finger. "You never cared about me and the only reason you're pretending to now is because you'll be gaining something from all of this." Fuming, Chuck shoved his father backwards with both hands. Bart remained silent as Chuck continued his assault. "The truth is, I hate you and I'll never forgive you!" Chuck launched a fist into Bart's jaw. "I." Punch. "Hate." Punch. "You." He hit Bart again and again before finally breaking down against his father's chest. "I hate you," he choked out.

Bart stood stunned momentarily before wrapping an arm around his son. He waited in this position until Chuck was able to compose himself. "Look at me, son," Bart commanded sternly. Chuck obliged, staring at his father through bloodshot eyes. "You are not at fault. You never were. I do _not_ blame you for your mother's death. Life works in mysterious ways, Charles. Yes, she is gone. Have I gotten over that? Absolutely not. However, while I lost a wife, I also gained a son, a strong one at that. I'm proud of how far you've gotten and how mature you've become, although that fit you just threw would suggest you're still a child." Bart raised an eyebrow. "I love you, son, contrary to what you believe. I'm sorry that I didn't show you that while I was still alive."

Chuck used the back of his hand to wipe the remaining tears off of his cheek. He stuttered, "I – I… well, I'm _sorry_. I was out of line." He lowered his dark eyes, embarrassed for his childish outburst. "I have no idea what came over me, father. Did I hurt you? I didn't expect to actually be able to hit you, you know."

"It's quite alright, Charles," Bart smiled with a shrug, "I'm dead, and as you can see, my face is perfectly unscathed. Just to clarify, you can't touch _living_ people. However, you and I are in similar states right now and so, being in the same realm, physical contact is possible. Understand?"

Chuck nodded and shoved his hand in his coat pockets. "So, where do we go from here?"

"Let's go see what Jack is up to, shall we?" Bart suggested, ushering Chuck next to him. And so began the familiar crushing pressure again. This was one aspect of ghost life to which Chuck was never going to adapt.

*****

Chuck opened his eyes to find himself outside of suite 1812, _his_ suite. Walking through the entrance door, Bart and Chuck immediately laid eyes on Jack Bass, surrounded by tens of cardboard boxes. Jack was in the middle of transferring clothes from Chuck's bureau into one of the boxes. "What is he doing with my belongings?" Chuck asked Bart.

"Well you aren't using them, now are you?" Bart answered casually.

Jack closed the bureau drawer and moved to sit in Chuck's plush red lounge chair. Producing a cigar from his coat pocket and lighting it, Jack looked relaxed; nothing gave evidence to the fact that his nephew had committed suicide just hours ago. His steely eyes scanned the room for nothing in particular before stopping suddenly on Chuck's nightstand. There, next to Chuck's king-sized bed, was a light blue bag, begging to be opened. Intrigued, Jack extinguished his cigar and strode briskly over to the nightstand. He took the bag in his hand and, reaching under the lampshade to turn on the light, saw the words "Tiffany & Co." adorning one side of the bag.

Chuck rolled his eyes nonchalantly. "Great," he mumbled. Bart eyed Chuck knowingly but said nothing.

"What do we have here?" Jack said to himself, amused. He opened the bag and removed a small box that had the bag's décor. Taking the lid of the box, Jack smirked. A small piece of paper lay atop a silver snowflake necklace. Each of the points of the snowflake was adorned with a sparkling white diamond, the middle of the charm being a large blue diamond. It was quite impressive, really. After admiring the piece of jewelry, Jack turned his attention to the piece of paper. It was clearly a handwritten note, the words written in fine cursive he could only assume belonged to Chuck.

_Because like a snowflake, no one can ever match your beauty. _

_ -C _

"Isn't that touching?" Jack chuckled.

Chuck groaned and Bart looked at him with an amused expression on his face. "I thought you didn't love her, son. Isn't that what you said earlier?" Chuck had conveniently started to find his shoelaces very interesting at this point. Bart continued, "At any rate, I've always thought Ms. Waldorf to be a fine match for you."

Snapping his head in Bart's direction, Chuck barked, "I don't love Blair, father. That was _supposed _to be a Christmas present, and nothing more. It's good to know you spy on me twenty-four-hours a day."

"Oh for God's sake, be quiet, Charles. Don't pretend like you don't utilize my private investigator for every insignificant matter," Bart shot back.

Chuck shrugged weakly. "I suppose you have a point."

Turning their attention back to Jack, father and son watched as Jack put the box back in the bag. He then took the bag off of the nightstand and walked over to a table where his briefcase lay. Jack opened the briefcase and gently laid the bag inside before closing it quickly.

"What the hell is he doing? That necklace was thousands of dollars! He better put it back," Chuck said furiously. "You hear me, Jack? Put it back or I'll -"

"You'll what, Charles? Assault him like you did me?" Bart interjected. "You cannot do anything to prevent Jack from taking the necklace. Leave it be."

"Leave it be? Fine, say I do. What's next? You told me the whole point of this was to find out people cared about me. I know that Jack cares about my possession, that's for sure. " Chuck asked, his eyes still trained on his uncle. "But I still don't see any real reverberations from my death. Maybe you just can't accept that there are none, father. It seems to me you just don't want to admit your son was a failure."

"You'll know the consequences of your suicide when you see them, Charles. Your death is certain to affect people long after the fact," Bart remarked. "If you don't believe me now, you will soon. How about we travel to the day of your funeral?"

**A/N**: Yay, I think the story is coming along quite nicely! What do you all think? Thanks once again for reading and hopefully you guys continue to do so!


	4. Coming Clean

**Summary: **What if the ghost of Bart Bass saves Chuck from committing suicide instead of Blair and Jack? Chuck sees how those he cared about would be affected if he had succeeded in his suicide attempt. Starts during 2.14. Loosely based off of the film "It's A Wonderful Life"

**Disclaimer: **I don't own anything, etc.

**Coming Clean**

_Your death is certain to affect people long after the fact," Bart remarked. "If you don't believe me now, you will soon. How about we travel to the day of your funeral?"_

Chuck braced himself for the rib-crushing pressure once again, but this time around, the experience was a thousand times worse. He felt as if his body was being folded to fit into the smallest of boxes, and Chuck was sure that he'd have broken bones. It seemed like an eternity that he was stuck in this uncomfortable position, but suddenly, following a loud pop, the pain disappeared.

He felt a soothing wetness on his skin, and upon opening his eyes, Chuck realized he was standing in misting rain. More specifically, he was standing in Green-Wood Cemetery in front of his own casket. _This is surreal_, Chuck thought as he observed his final resting place. In New York, Green-Wood was the cemetery to top all cemeteries. It was the ideal burial spot for the state's elite, and here Chuck Bass lay, ready to join the thousands of other rich people that had been able to afford such prestigious burials. At least the funeral wasn't in a church, Chuck figured, since he'd never been religious.

His casket was of solid bronze with a gold finish, and as morbid as it was, Chuck couldn't help but wonder what the color of its interior was. He also couldn't help but snort at the fact the weather was so gloomy. "Quite the stereotype," he said dryly.

Behind Chuck sat all the people that had come into his life throughout the years: trustee members, grade school playmates, friends of his father; all sorts of people were in attendance to watch Chuck Bass be laid to rest. Chuck turned to face all of them, and immediately his eyes were drawn to one person in particular.

In between Serena and Eleanor was Blair. Lipstick the color of red wine was painted on her lips, which were pursed in a thin line as if to permanently seal off her feelings. Blair's expression was unreadable, her stoic face a slate of marble etched by Leonardo da Vinci himself. While Blair did a commendable job of concealing her emotions, Chuck could see the unmistakable gleam of pain in her eyes. He was the only one that knew when Blair's eyes were betraying her.

Before he could turn his attentions to the other friends and acquaintances surrounding Blair, Chuck heard the soft yet commanding voice of Eric van der Woodsen and realized services were about to begin.

"I wanted to be the first to speak today because Chuck Bass really left an imprint on my soul. I couldn't find it in me to put what I needed to say today into writing," Eric spoke quietly, "so all I'm going to do is speak from the heart. Sorry in advance if I'm not as formal as I should be; I'm not really used to losing people I care about." Chuck heard Bart clear his throat smugly. _I'm still not buying it_, Chuck thought himself, knowing his father would be listening.

"Anyways," Eric continued, "I've always wanted a brother and I never thought I'd find that brother in Chuck. I've heard stories and rumors and all sorts of things about him, so upon my mother's marriage to Bart Bass, I was skeptical. I was thoroughly surprised at what I discovered, though. I soon learned that there was far more to Chuck than meets the eye. He had a great sense of humor and an even better sense of understanding. I bet none of you knew that he also had a secret love for INXS," Eric smiled wistfully.

"Chuck impacted me in so many ways that I don't even know where to begin. I guess I'll start with the fact that because of Chuck's companionship, I never felt alone. He always gave impeccable advice and for that reason, everyone came to him for help. Chuck was always the first to be of assistance, even if his methods of helping were a bit… out of the box. I've always hated the way people perceived him. Chuck might have made mistakes, but haven't we all? We're only human; _Chuck_ _was only human_. Call him whatever you will, but not a single one of you can deny that Chuck had a bright future ahead of him, a future that was snuffed out because nobody knew how to help him the way he has helped all of us." Eric paused and inhaled shakily. "I guess I just want everyone to know that Chuck was one of a kind. He was my brother, my mentor, and most of all, my friend, and I'm going to miss him very much." Eric stepped down from the small podium set up near Chuck's casket and sat in his chair on the other side of Serena.

Meanwhile, Father Michael Thomas from St. Patrick's Cathedral began his sermon. After the sermon was delivered, Father Thomas asked if anyone else had any words to say. Chuck wondered if any of the funeral-goers would even bother. _Certainly not Serena_, Chuck thought, _she has to focus on remembering to breathe. _An amused smirk flicked across his face before quickly extinguishing as his eyes were drawn once more to Blair. Would she dare speak into that microphone and tell the world how she felt about him? Chuck waited eagerly, but Blair never budged. His spirits fell – no, they _crashed_ – to the floor.

Nobody delivered any additional words of remembrance and so Father Thomas invited everyone to walk past the casket to pay their final respects. This process took nearly half an hour before the funeral-goers headed back to their cars and over to Lily Bass' for lunch. "I die and these gluttons gorge themselves?" Chuck complained to Bart.

Bart rolled his eyes and sighed. "_Look_, Charles," he said, gesturing back towards Chuck's casket, where Blair stood alone.

"Why is she still here?" Chuck muttered, peeved that Blair didn't want to deliver any kind words about him during the funeral.

"I don't know," Bart replied impatiently, "Why don't you go see for yourself?"

Chuck obliged, slowly walking over to the brunette, who was clad in a knee-length black dress that was reminiscent of the one Jackie Onassis wore at John Kennedy's funeral - _tragic, yet beautiful_, Chuck observed. Blair parted her lips and began to speak and immediately Chuck's ears perked up.

"I'm sorry I didn't go up earlier," Blair whispered, running a perfectly-manicured hand back and forth across the top of the casket. For some reason, the action comforted her; it made her feel closer to Chuck. "You know I hate to cry in front of people, and if I were to go up there… Well, Bass, I think I'd break down." Immediately, Chuck felt guilty. "I'm so mad at you, Chuck. I'm mad that you did this to yourself and I'm mad that you did this to me. We were perfect together. I just wish that you said you loved me. I can't help but think that maybe if you did say it, things would be different."

Several tears spilled down her cheeks and she wiped them away before forcing a laugh. "I'm pathetic, aren't I, talking to a dead person? Not only am I a heifer, but I'm also insane!" Chuck wanted to grab her shoulders and shake Blair. She wasn't pathetic and she certainly wasn't fat; she was beautiful! Blair was perfect and ethereal and everything about her just made sense to Chuck.

"Why can't you see that for yourself, Blair?" he asked quietly, knowing she wouldn't respond.

Blair began crying harder now, not even noticing the undertaker approaching her. "Miss, we're going to need to lower the casket soon," the worker said hesitantly.

Immediately, haughty Blair took over and, although tears still fell, she snapped, "Excuse me, but clearly I'm in the middle of something and if you want to keep your job, I suggest you take your corpse-scented behind elsewhere!" Chuck smirked. At least his Blair remembered where she stood in the realm of things.

The worker nodded, embarrassed, and shuffled away. Blair stopped rubbing the surface of the casket and removed something from her purse. Puzzled, Chuck tried to see what the object was as Blair placed it on casket's top. "I never told you this, but you left that red silk scarf of yours in my room a few months ago. I didn't want to give it back because it was the only part of you that I was sure wouldn't leave me," Blair smiled weakly, "I was right, huh? Anyways, I know it was your favorite, so I'm giving it back. I wrapped my grandmother's ring in that scarf, though, because I wanted to leave you something of mine so that I'm with you, in a way. Does that make sense?" She laughed softly to herself. "Of course it doesn't. Look what you've reduced me to, Bass! You've always made me crazy one way or another."

At this point, all Chuck wanted to do was take Blair in his arms, to tell her that everything will be fine and she will move on. This sentiment was cut short upon a loud crash of thunder. The rain began falling rapidly and out of nowhere, Dorota came running with an open umbrella to shield Blair from the downpour. "Sorry Miss Blair, I waited in car as long as I could. You cannot get soaked before arriving at Miss Lily's!"

Blair nodded before turning back to the casket and gently pressing her lips to it. "I don't know how I'm going to live without you, so give me some guidance, Chuck, okay? I love you so much." Hesitantly, Blair walked away from the burial plot and got inside of an idling black car.

Chuck was speechless. He had just witnessed Blair bare her soul to him and there was nothing he could say or do in return to give her that comfort she so desperately wanted (and needed). Bart appeared next to him and placed a hand on Chuck's shoulder. "What do you make of that, son?"

"I have no idea," Chuck replied, still sad to find that his perfect Blair didn't realize how amazing she really was. "It kills me to see her unhappy, father. I want her to realize that life goes on. She's better off without me; she just doesn't see that."

"Do you love her, Charles?" Bart inquired.

Chuck answered with a soft "Yes."

"Then why do you not want to be with her?"

"I do want to be with her, but I can't," Chuck responded blankly. "I can't because I hate myself and I'm no good for someone like her."

"Fine, Charles. If you genuinely think that she doesn't need you, then you are not ready to return to the living realm. You still have much more to see. I suppose we should go –" Bart sighed deeply before continuing, "I suppose we should go to Lily's."

"Alright," Chuck smirked knowingly. "This should be interesting for you as well, huh, father?"

**A/N **I really enjoyed writing this chapter, so I hope everyone enjoyed reading it! I was conflicted with which way I wanted to take this story but I feel as if I made the right decision. On another note, one reader mentioned that they were expecting Blair/Jack interaction in the previous chapter – trust me, there will definitely be scenes between the two and they are going to be crucial to the storyline. Another reader asked why Chuck was behaving the way he was. Well, he wanted to die, and there must be a huge impetus to bring him back from that depression and self-loathing. Until then, he'll remain pessimistic. Finally, I wanted to point out that you should be paying attention to the use of eyes/vision in this story – huge symbolism right there!


	5. Transference

**Summary: **What if the ghost of Bart Bass saves Chuck from committing suicide instead of Blair and Jack? Chuck sees how those he cared about would be affected if he had succeeded in his suicide attempt. Starts during 2.14. Loosely based off of the film "It's A Wonderful Life"

**Disclaimer: **I don't own anything, etc.

**Transference**

"_Fine, Charles. If you genuinely think that she doesn't need you, then you are not ready to return to the living realm. You still have much more to see. I suppose we should go –" Bart sighed deeply before continuing, "I suppose we should go to Lily's."_

The post-funeral brunch at Lily's was everything Chuck expected it to be. Decadent foods and expensive champagne were spread across the banquet table in the dining room, and various people, most of whom Chuck hadn't even recognized, were picking greedily at the gourmet hors d'oeuvres.

"These fools are toasting to my death? How refined," Chuck spat upon observing two members of the Board of Trustees indulging in glasses of Cristal that Lily had provided.

Bart waved a hand nonchalantly. "Ira and Roger are of no importance to you. Both of the idiots are about to be ousted from the Board soon enough. They've both been dipping in the pool of high-priced escorts and I'm certain their wives will be none too happy to find out."

Chuck quirked an eyebrow inquisitively. "And how exactly will Ira's and Roger's wives discover their little… indiscretions?"

"Your uncle's no imbecile," Bart shrugged.

As if on cue, Jack entered the dining room with Lily following alongside him. Chuck smirked as he watched Bart's expression become stern; obviously, the elder Bass was not over Lily.

Jack took a point of toast that was covered in expensive caviar and listened patiently as Lily began to speak. "You do realize what being C.E.O. of the _entire_ company entails, don't you? It's not that I don't trust you, Jack, it's that I'm a little nervous as to how well you can adapt to such a huge career step."

Swallowing the toast, Jack replied, "I understand your concerns, Lily, and trust me, I'm not here to run Bass Industries into the ground. Believe it or not, I have advised your husband on a number of business decisions that proved to be extremely lucrative for the company."

Bart shook his head, amused. "Well that's certainly not true, Charles. Jack has been nothing but trouble for the Australian branch. However, he is a mastermind at manipulation."

Father and son continued to listen in on the conversation as Jack shrugged his shoulders casually. "And with all due respect, Lily, I was Chuck's legal guardian. And that means that I'm running Bass Industries whether you like it or not."

Lily pursed her lips. "You realize the Board is going to have to review you first? To make sure everything is on the up and up on your end, of course."

"Please stop treating me like I'm an entry-level associate," Jack laughed, "I know the workings of a business and I'm prepared to do whatever I need to do in order to show the Board that I am capable of being C.E.O." Shaking Lily's hand, he continued, "And with that, I do need to go. Prior engagements, of course."

"Of course," Lily replied slowly, her eyebrows furrowed in suspicion.

Both Jack and Lily departed from the room and Chuck turned to Bart with a confused look on his face. "What do you make of Jack, father?"

Bart crossed his arms. "My personal opinions are just that – personal. Therefore, what I think of Jack is not an issue. I'm sure you'll form your own thoughts about your uncle in due time, Charles."

Just then, Eric appeared in the room, clearly distressed. His brown hair was unkempt and it was obvious from the bloodshot appearance of his eyes that he had been crying. Eric made straight for the liquor cabinet and threw back a shot of scotch. Chuck smiled at the sentiment; clearly Eric was attempting to find an attachment to his elder brother. "Fucking Chuck," Eric muttered under his breath as he perched both elbows on the cabinet and let his head fall into his hands.

Jenny suddenly walked into the room and approached Eric. Tentatively, she reached a hand to his shoulder. "Are you alright?" she asked, concerned.

Eric laughed under his breath. "Unbelievable. No, I'm not okay, Jenny! I'm single, I'm brother-less, I lost one of my best friends, and really, all I want to do is drink. I'm miserable."

Chuck rubbed his chin in confusion. Eric not only thought of him as a brother, but he also thought of him as a friend. A _best _friend, even. Chuck had no idea how to react. "I never really thought I was that close to him," Chuck remarked, still a little dumbfounded, "I helped him out a lot, I gave him advice, but come on, a _best _friend? That title is reserved for Nathaniel and Nathaniel alone."

"Well obviously, Charles, Eric here thought differently," Bart replied flippantly, "Are you really going to try to deny the impact you've had on him?"

"You are trying so hard, it's pathetic," Chuck growled, "I get it. Eric's sad. He's always been sad, though; that's what you don't get. He's been fucked up since he tried to kill himself so I really don't think Eric having another depressive episode is all that significant. Personally, I'm getting a little bored of all of this."

Bart looked furious. "Do you have any idea how big this opportunity is for you, Charles? It's an opportunity to have a second chance! But can you see that? No, you can't, because you are such a goddamn moron! Do you think I'm having a great time watching Lily parade around the room with that destitute serf of hers? Of course not, but I'm doing it to help _you_. I'm at my wits end, Charles, I really am. You're as ungrateful as ever and it truly is sad."

Chuck jammed his hands in his pockets. "Then why don't we stop all of this? Let me fucking die and we can both be rid of each other."

"As tempting as that sounds, I'm going to have to decline," Bart answered, "I'm not going to let you being an idiot get in the way of a second chance."

Chuck was about to protest when all of a sudden he heard a high voice shriek, "I'm fine!" followed by clicking heels and the slamming of the entrance door. _What the_…

All of a sudden he saw Serena emerge from her bedroom, followed by a disheveled Nate. "I don't know what to do, Nate," Serena said sadly, crossing her arms over her surprisingly tame black frock. "I would normally ask Chuck, but…" Serena trailed off, biting her lip.

"I know," Nate replied quietly, putting an arm around Serena to comfort her. "Honestly, Serena, I never really knew how to handle Blair. And I _really_ don't know how to handle this one. I could use some help myself, you know?" His eyes were sad and it was obvious that Nate was severely distraught over Chuck's death.

Serena smiled weakly. "Chuck wouldn't want you to be sad, Nate. He'd probably tell you to get drunk and bring someone home,"

Chuck smirked at that remark. That's exactly what he'd say. Before Chuck had leaped from the building, he thought about how he'd want his friends to move on. _Yes, Nate certainly deserves to the chance to channel his grief into resentful sex with a hot stranger_, Chuck thought.

Nate tried to smile but failed. "That's not what I want. I just need… a friend."

Serena looked into Nate's eyes and realized that "a friend" meant her. She could be a friend, Serena supposed. Linking her arm with Nate's, Serena led him towards the entrance door. "Let's get a drink," she coaxed.

Where they were going, Chuck didn't care. He knew that Nate and Serena were destined to hook up, whether it be at a wedding or after Chuck's own funeral. The pairing was so long in the making that Chuck wasn't even mad. In the background, Chuck could hear Bart audibly sigh.

"What, father? What's wrong now? So my death brought them together, so what? I'd say that's a good thing," Chuck remarked.

"Since you don't seem to want to listen to me, I'll let time play out and show you itself," Bart replied casually. "Come here."

Chuck obliged and as Bart placed a hand on his shoulder, Chuck knew what was happening next. The only difference this time is that he had no idea where they were going.

*****

Chuck opened his eyes and immediately he knew where he was. Bondi blue walls and elegant cream-colored fabrics enveloped the bedroom belonging to Blair Waldorf. The scent of flowers – specifically, pink peonies – filled the room and suddenly, Chuck yearned to envelope Blair in his arms and drink in her scent forever. His fantasy was shaken, however, by deep retching sounds. Chuck's eyes darted immediately to the closed bathroom doors and a sudden dawn of realization came over him. "Father, would you give me – or Blair, rather – some privacy?" he asked. Bart obliged and drifted through the bedroom door to wander other parts of the penthouse.

Chuck easily passed through the bathroom door and his eyes were quickly drawn to a near-empty platter of blondies. "Goddamnit, Blair!" he yelled loudly, though he knew she wouldn't hear. Crouching down, Chuck observed her mascara-streaked face, a far cry from the perfect façade Blair had earlier put on at his funeral. After flushing the toilet, Blair leaned back against the wall and simply stared into space as if she was in some kind of daze.

Chuck reached out hand to trace her jawline, and naturally, his touch could not be felt. Blair lolled her head to the side, her blank eyes looking directly through Chuck. "Come on, Waldorf, get up," Chuck urged in vain.

All of a sudden, Chuck heard the bedroom door open and slam, followed by footsteps that quickly made their way to the bathroom door. The stranger's hand turned the knob and soon enough, Chuck was staring at the figure of Jack Bass. "What the hell?" he asked aloud.

Blair made no notice of Jack; her eyes were still transfixed to the wall. Jack bent down. "Ms. Waldorf, this is certainly not a position in which one would want to be caught." No response. Chuck's eyes bore into Jack, not knowing his uncle's intentions, and therefore, not trusting him.

Jack took a softer tone. "Come on, sweetheart. You need to get up." Jack's hand touched the cheek that Chuck had so desperately wanted to feel, and guided her face towards him.

Finally, Blair spoke. "What are you doing here?" she asked weakly. Chuck was angry. The Blair he knew would scream at Jack to get out, she would throw barbed insults at him, she would – _she would do nothing because I crippled her with grief. God, I'm selfish_, Chuck thought with guilt.

Jack wrapped an arm around her waist and pulled Blair to her feet. "I have something that you might want," Jack replied, "I'll wait in your bedroom while you… erm… freshen up." With that, Jack turned around and shut the bathroom door, leaving Blair to brush her teeth and clean the smudged make-up off of her face. Chuck watched Blair's actions, almost robotic-like, as she automatically reapplied gloss and ventured out into the bedroom.

Chuck followed Blair and immediately noticed that Jack was sitting on her bed with his briefcase shut tightly beside him. "What is it you have, Jack?" Blair asked sharply, attempting to switch back to her cold, stony persona.

"Come here and you'll see," Jack answered in a light, teasing tone. He began to open the briefcase and the bright blue Tiffany's bag quickly caught Blair's eye.

"What's that? A condolence gift? Thanks but no thanks," Blair snapped.

Jack smirked. "Don't flatter yourself, sweetheart. It's a post-mortem gift from a certain nephew of mine."

Jack knew that he had piqued Blair's interest and watched hungrily as she walked towards him.

Chuck watched the scene unfold in silent fury. He could yell, he could throw empty punches, he could do any goddamn thing he wanted except for remove Blair from the situation. And so, Chuck just observed with gritted teeth.

Blair stood near Jack and stared at him expectantly with crossed arms. "Well?"

"Well, have a seat," Jack patted the space next to him.

Blair rolled her eyes and sat down, huffing exasperatedly. "Fine. Look, Jack. This has been the worst day of my life and I'm really not in the mood to play games."

"Obviously you are as you seem to enjoy playing games with your life. Bulimia, Ms. Waldorf? I thought you were too good for that," Jack chastised her.

"That's none of your business," Blair quipped.

"Alright, alright," Jack held his hands up, "you're right. I was out of line and I'm sorry. Apology accepted?"

Blair kept her arms crossed defensively. "Whatever. Watch your words from now on," she replied, attempting to sound confident.

"Done and done," Jack replied with an appraising glance. "Now, I know that the past few days have been rough on you, Blair – may I call you Blair? – and I thought that you deserve a little cheering up. I found this in Chuck's bedroom, and I realized that it was meant for you." Jack pulled out the Tiffany's bag and handed it to Blair.

Blair look at Jack curiously before pulling out the box and opening it. She gasped upon seeing the necklace and immediately tears threatened to spill down her cheeks. The necklace was beautiful, more beautiful than anything Blair could have imagined. She was about to ask Jack to put help her put it on when Jack suddenly added, "There's more," Jack gestured to the note beneath the necklace. Blair's lips moved silently as she read it.

"It's my entire fault," Blair whispered shakily as she covered her face in her hands, letting the note drop.

_How could she possibly think it's her fault? All the note basically said was that she's fucking beautiful_, Chuck thought.

Crouching down, Chuck looked at the note to see what she could have misinterpreted. His jaw clenched angrily upon seeing the handwriting – _his _handwriting – detailing something Chuck never would have written.

_For you, Blair, because your taste has always been exquisite. Now I realize I won't ever make you happy. I hope this means something to you, because I can't do this anymore._

_-C_

"You son of a bitch!" Chuck roared furiously.

Blair was sobbing into her hands and Jack feigned sympathy as he began rubbing up and down her back. "There, there. Calm down, sweetheart. It couldn't have been your fault."

"Yes it is!" she protested, "I pushed him and pushed him to say 'I love you' when he wasn't ready, and look what happened!"

"Oh no, Blair, you can't possibly think you were the _only _reason for Chuck doing what he did," Jack insisted, pulling Blair closer into him. She was too upset to notice Jack nuzzling intrusively against her neck.

Chuck strode up to Jack and launched a fist, only to watch it pass right through Jack's form. "Fuck!" He hurled obscenities and punches in Jack's direction in a blind rage, no longer realizing that his attempts at interfering with Jack's intentions weren't working.

"Chuck will never forgive me," Blair whispered in defeat as she closed her eyes.

"I'm sure he will, _Waldorf_," Jack whispered into Blair's ear before nipping softly at her neck. Blair was consumed in so many guilty thoughts that in her own little world, Jack was gone, gone, gone.

Slowly, the tears stopped falling and Blair rolled her head to the side, exposing more of her neck. _Chuck has never taken it this slow before_, Blair thought, _but he's here with me again. That's all that matters_. His hands felt rougher than normal, she noted as one traveled up her thigh - much rougher than normal. It didn't matter though, she figured, as long as those hands belonged to Chuck. A smile threatened to spread across her face as she remembered that infamous night in the limo.

Her eyes still clenched shut, Blair softly pleaded, "Take me, Chuck. I love you."

Chuck watched in horror as Jack guided her back on the bed and began unbuckling his belt. "Anything for you, sweetheart," the uncle grinned.

**_Anything for you, _sweetheart.**

"Oh my God!" Blair's eyes snapped open, horrified at the sight of Jack leering at her. "Get off!" she shrieked, scrambling back on her bed.

Jack complied calmly and collectedly. "Easy, there. We were only helping each other out, Ms. Waldorf."

"I wasn't helping you do anything, you perv! Get the hell out of here or I'm calling the police!" Blair threatened, her arms once again crossed defensively.

Jack put his hands in his pockets and shrugged. "As you wish." He started walking, and before leaving the room completely, turned around and smirked. "Just one thing, Ms. Waldorf… You can't deny you were enjoying it."

Blair slid off her bed and ran into the bathroom, sick to her stomach at what just happened. The sound of the shower turned on and Chuck realized she must be washing the memory away forever.

In any other situation, Chuck would have walked his ghostly self right into that bathroom and watched his dream girl shower, but right now he was too furious to move. Bart suddenly appeared beside him. "I'm sorry you had to see that, Charles."

"I'm going to kill Jack. It's as simple as that. Send me back, father; I'm ready to live again," Chuck growled, nostrils flaring.

Bart shook his head helplessly. "It's not that easy, Chuck. You can't just wish to live again so you can kill Jack for something he didn't do."

"But he _will_ try to do it, right? I mean when I'm really dead?" Chuck asked urgently.

"That's correct. But you need to see the far-reaching consequences of your death, Charles. You can't base whether or not you want to live on what you have just seen. It isn't enough. You have to want to live for yourself, not for revenge."

"I don't care if it isn't enough! I can't handle seeing him touch her again!" Chuck raged.

"Trust me, Charles," Bart said solemnly, "You are going to want to see what the future beholds."

**A/N:** So happy finals are over – college is a bitch! Anyways, this is probably my favorite chapter, so I hope you all enjoyed it as well. I know the J/B interaction might upset some readers but I personally love the way it turned out. The NYE fling between J/B always made me mad because we never saw the circumstances under which the act happened so I wanted to flesh something like that out and make it believable. As always, thanks for reading (and all those lovely reviews, too!). Someone asked why Bart was being so nice to Chuck in death… Well, I haven't watched "The Debarted" because I wanted to keep my version of Bart separate and uninfluenced by the show, and regarding this story, Bart has more to gain by not being a jerk (e.g. eternal rest).


	6. Realization

**Summary: **What if the ghost of Bart Bass saves Chuck from committing suicide instead of Blair and Jack? Chuck sees how those he cared about would be affected if he had succeeded in his suicide attempt. Starts during 2.14. Loosely based off of the film "It's A Wonderful Life"

**Disclaimer: **I don't own anything, etc.

**Realization**

"_Trust me, Charles," Bart said solemnly, "You are going to want to see what the future beholds."_

When he opened his eyes this time, Chuck had no idea where he was. He was standing in the foyer of what seemed to be an enormous, lavish mansion. Bart suddenly appeared next to him and observed his son patiently for a reaction.

"Where are we?" Chuck asked. "This doesn't look like the terrible future you promised me, father. In fact, I daresay whoever lives here is doing quite well for themselves."

Bart shrugged. "Let's look around, shall we, Charles?" He ushered his son towards the sprawling staircase in the center of the foyer that led to the second floor.

As he walked up the staircase, Chuck looked around him at the ornate paintings on the walls. There weren't any portraits that would hint as to who the owner of the house was; rather, the paintings were of beautiful Renaissance women, soft and naked. The mansion had a classic, sophisticated feel to it and Chuck could only hope that it belonged to one Blair Waldorf. In fact, now that he had the opportunity to look around more, Chuck knew that there was no possible way anyone besides Blair lived in this mansion. Like in her bedroom, pink peonies were everywhere, their fragrant aroma wafting through the rooms, greeting Chuck like an old familiar lover.

Chuck wandered around the second floor with Bart following behind him silently, a shadow-like presence. One room was revealed to be a study, filled with classic literature and a luxurious baby grand piano. Chuck ran a hand over the freshly polished instrument before sitting down on the piano bench and observing the last piece of music played. "Moonlight Sonata," he murmured quietly to himself. It was one of his favorite compositions by Beethoven, and Chuck couldn't help but selfishly wonder if Blair played it because it made her think of him. Getting up from the bench, Chuck walked over to the expansive mahogany desk upon which sat a thick stack of lined composition paper. He scanned the first page, jaw clenching as he did so.

_The harder she tried to reel him in, the more likely he was to pull away. It was the only thing either of them knew, the only way the pair could interact. Would he ever change? The girl wondered. Could he ever change?_

"She's writing a story about me – about us," Chuck said, surprised. As he read on, Blair's flawlessly feminine handwriting described more details of a relationship that Chuck knew could only be theirs. "But why?" he asked aloud, to no one in particular.

"Why do you think?" Bart's voice pierced the stoic atmosphere this particular room possessed.

Chuck shook his head, confused. "How am I supposed to know?" he replied, not really looking for an answer.

He didn't meet his father's stare as he walked out of the room in silence. Chuck couldn't quite pinpoint it, but something about Blair's mansion was off. Chuck soon entered a bedroom he could only assume was Blair's. The walls weren't painted blue this time, but rather a deep, heavy violet, and he immediately realized that this place didn't belong to the Blair that he knew. It belonged to a cheerless woman whose lone desire was to be reunited to the only man she had ever loved. The ominous ambiance of Blair's bedroom was terrifying.

"Father, I… This can't be because of me, right?" Chuck asked anxiously.

Bart shrugged. "You tell me, Charles."

"I don't know," replied Chuck tensely. "I need to get out of here, though. This place is so… un-Blairlike."

He backed out of the bedroom, looking one last time at the gloomy décor before turning around and heading back into the corridor. Chuck started to walk back towards the staircase when he suddenly felt drawn to very last door at the end of the hallway. It was a strange feeling, really, an odd and magnetic one of sorts. Chuck's mind couldn't explain it, but he knew what his body wanted to do.

He started towards the door.

Walking through it like he'd become so accustomed to doing as of late, Chuck realized he was in Blair's bathroom. He was relieved to see that this time, there was no retching brunette on the floor, and for a second Chuck wondered why he had even desired so badly to enter this particular room. It was a fleeting question, because what he saw must have been what his father had so urgently warned him about.

Blair was lying with her eyes closed in a claw-foot bathtub that was filled to the brim with icy water. Her arm hung limply over the side, drawing his eyes downward to an empty prescription bottle that had fallen from her hand onto the black marble floor.

Chuck rushed to the side of the bathtub, kneeling down to pick up the bottle. "Valium? Goddamn it, Blair! Where the hell did you get this?" he asked knowing full-well Blair wouldn't respond. He scanned the label for a name.

_Eleanor Waldorf_.

All of a sudden, Bart Bass appeared behind him. "Eleanor took a severe fall a decade after your death and broke her back. She's been using Valium ever since, and so has Blair, when she has the opportunity to steal it," the elder Bass informed his son. "Ms. Waldorf moved out when she was twenty-five but continues to visit her mother when work permits. Or continued, I should say."

"Blair can't die like this," Chuck growled, his eyes watering as he staring at her pallid face. "This isn't how it was supposed to happen."

"How was it supposed to happen, son?" Bart asked casually.

Chuck hung his head. "She was supposed to spend of the rest of her life with me, not lying here alone in freezing cold bathwater. Blair is too good for this."

Bart posed another question. "And why do you suppose things didn't play out that way?"

Lifting his head to look at Blair, her blue lips gutting him the very core, Chuck thought carefully. The answer suddenly dawned on him, a bright light in a room full of empty darkness. Chuck answered slowly, "Because I wasn't there to make sure they did. Because I took the easy way out. Because I… Jesus, I made the biggest mistake of my life." He shook his head angrily. "I'm an idiot."

Bart nodded approvingly. "You finally see that. So tell me, Charles, what are you going to do next?"

"I… I need to fix things with Blair. I need to see that she's alright. Get me out of here and send me back, okay?" Chuck asked, trying not to sound too desperate. Bart just stood there with his arms crossed. "What the hell are you waiting for? I can't stand seeing her like this! She's my life, father, and you're just standing here, fucking around? Real nice!"

Bart held up a hand. "That's all I needed to hear."

Chuck paused. "What?"

"That Blair is your life. That's all I needed to hear," Bart responded as if it were the most obvious statement in the world.

"Well if that's all I needed to tell you, why the hell didn't you just say so to begin with?" Chuck demanded to know.

Bart rolled his eyes. "Because if I had told you, then you'd have never truly realized it for yourself. You needed to figure it out on your own. Remember when I told you that you have to want to live for yourself? What I wanted to tell you is that you and Blair are intertwined. Her life is yours, and yours is hers. You have to press on for her. For Blair."

Chuck's eyes widened in realization. "Are you telling me that she can't live without me?"

"And likewise, you cannot live without her," Bart replied.

It was as if a wave of awareness washed over Chuck. Everything suddenly made sense, like he knew it all along but didn't realize he did until just now. Chuck looked at his father and nodded in recognition. He was ready to go home.

**A/N: **I'm so sorry it took so long to update, but I had a huge case of writer's block and didn't want to write a crappy filler chapter because I felt as though doing that would bring the down the story as a whole. I hope you enjoyed this chapter, and thanks for reading!


	7. Redux

**Summary: **What if the ghost of Bart Bass saves Chuck from committing suicide instead of Blair and Jack? Chuck sees how those he cared about would be affected if he had succeeded in his suicide attempt. Starts during 2.14. Loosely based off of the film "It's A Wonderful Life"

**Disclaimer: **I don't own anything, etc.

**Redux**

_Everything suddenly made sense, like he knew it all along but didn't realize he did until just now. Chuck looked at his father and nodded in recognition. He was ready to go home._

"Chuck? Hey, Chuck, are you alright?" a male voice reverberated in Chuck's ears as the young Bass' eyes flickered open to reveal his Uncle Jack kneeling over him.

Chuck blinked several times to regain his focus and realized he was back on the rooftop of the Victrola. An empty liquor bottle was strewn to the side and it was a hell of a lot colder outside than Chuck had remembered.

"Chuck, answer me. I need to know if you're okay," Jack urged his nephew, touching a hand to Chuck's arm.

Recalling what he had seen take place in the future, Chuck recoiled from his uncle's touch. "Get the hell away from me," he growled menacingly, scrambling backwards until he found his back resting against the thick ledge of the roof. Chuck's head spun wildly; apparently time-traveling hadn't killed his buzz.

Suddenly, a new voice – Blair's voice - joined the conversation. "Chuck, what's going on? I was so worried about you." Blair gently shut the door to the rooftop behind her and walked towards Jack. "What did you do to him?" she hissed to the elder Bass angrily.

Jack shrugged. "Nothing. All I did was find him passed out up here and attempt to help him come around. You try. Nothing gets through to the kid." He gestured towards Chuck, who watched the interaction between Blair and Jack with disdain.

Chuck jumped to his feet. "Stay away from her," he snarled before stumbling, still a little drunk, towards Blair. She closed her eyes and sighed in relief when Chuck took her in his arms. "Blair, I missed you so much," he said throatily, tangling his hands in her hair and inhaling Blair's intoxicating scent of vanilla and orange.

Chuck felt her fall against his chest. "I missed you too," she whispered. "Don't ever do that to me again, Chuck."

Chuck pulled out of the embrace, his expression grave. Soberness appeared to take over his features as he shook his head. "I was a fucking idiot, Blair. I acted like a child and hurt you in the process, something I never wanted to do."

Jack snorted in the background, causing Chuck to turn his attention to his uncle. "What do you find so funny, Jack? I wouldn't be laughing if I were you because you aren't getting the company and you most certainly aren't getting my girl."

Jack's smirk vanished and Blair's eyes widened. She supposed they would have to talk about that "my girl" part later. "Whatever are you talking about, dear nephew?" Jack drawled slowly.

"Please, Jack. I'm not an idiot," Chuck started, "I know you're here to try to oust me from the company, and I also know you've been dying to get your hands on Blair. It was a valiant effort, uncle, but you can go home now."

Jack smiled maliciously. His eyes, gleaming, darted towards Blair as he responded nonchalantly, "Oh, I've already had her. No need to worry about that."

"Jack…" Blair trailed off, visibly upset.

"No, sweetheart, allow me to elaborate for your _man_. I'm sure he'll love to hear it," Jack said gleefully.

Chuck's face grew dark as he clenched his fists, trying his damndest not to pummel Jack's smug expression off of his face. "What are you talking about?"

"Blair fucked me on New Year's, and my god was it fantastic," Jack answered with a casual grin, "I don't know why you'd ever want to leave _that_." He swept his hand towards Blair, who looked away guiltily.

"I did it for you, Chuck," she whispered almost inaudibly.

"What? Did it for me? How the hell is fucking my uncle doing it for _me_?" Chuck asked in disbelief.

"I don't know," she murmured sadly, and in the moonlight, Chuck could see glistening tears trailing down her cheeks.

Jack cleared his throat. "Ahem. If I may throw Ms. Waldorf a bone, I will say she offered to do it only if I brought _you _home. How could I turn down such an… indecent proposal?"

Chuck looked at Blair. "Is that true?"

She nodded, still not meeting his gaze. "He said it was the only way," Blair said weakly. "I didn't know what else to do."

Chuck sighed and massaged his temples. How could he be mad at her? If it weren't for what Blair did, he would still be in Bangkok, high on drugs, or perhaps even dead. No, of course Chuck wasn't pleased. He was pissed. But he could accept it. Sure, Blair was no saint. But neither was Chuck. He had hurt her more times than he'd like to admit, rejected her when all she wanted to do was help, made jokes about her love for him. Despite everything, Chuck knew that they would get through with this. They had no choice, after the future he saw for Blair without him. Everything would be okay, as long as...

"Jack. You need to leave immediately before I do something I regret," Chuck threatened his uncle, his words dripping with venom. "Actually, I won't regret it, which will make it worse for you. It's your choice."

Jack's face fell as he realized his attempt at sabotaging Chuck's affection for Blair failed. "Fine, I'll go. But don't think for a damn second that you're going to be capable of all that your father was able to do. And I'll be on the next flight after you call me desperate for my help."

"We'll see about that," Chuck growled, watching his uncle like a hawk as Jack left him and Blair alone on the rooftop.

"Chuck, I -" Blair started before Chuck took her breath away, kissing her long and hard.

Chuck brushed a few loose tendrils of hair away from Blair's face and gently pressed his lips to her forehead. "I've been through a lot tonight, Blair. Trust me. I've come to realize that I need you. I don't care what you did."

"But _I_ care, Chuck. I should never have done that to you," she replied, her voice tinged with guilt. "I love you so much and I just wanted you back. I should have looked for a better way."

"Listen to me, Blair," Chuck cradled her face in both of his hands, "If Jack hadn't come for me, I don't think I would have ever come back. And now, because of you, here I am. I'm not going to pretend it doesn't bother me, and if it happened under any other circumstance, I would probably be furious. But you saved me, and nothing you say will take away from that. How about you just accept the fact that I love you?"

Blair leaned into him and Chuck greedily wrapped her in his arms once again. "What's gotten into you, Chuck Bass?" Chuck heard Blair whisper into his chest. He smirked.

"Life, Blair. I feel alive again."

He remembered his father's words: _"You and Blair are intertwined."_

And so they were. Standing on the rooftop, Chuck and Blair were entangled in each other's embrace, ready to take on the future… together.

Fin

**A/N: **Well, that's the long-awaited end! I am terrible for taking so long to update but I really wasn't sure how I wanted this to end so I had to take the time to craft this chapter. Many drafts later, this was the ending I came up with. I hope you guys enjoyed it. Thank you for coming on this journey with Chuck Bass =)


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